Seashore calling #haibun

Haibun Monday 7-31-23: Moving

good evening frank, good evening all #dversepoetspub has me dreaming of moving to the seaside again with your haibun Monday prompt

The calling #haibun.

The seashore calls. The smell of the salty sea laced with seaweed. The shouting seagulls calling my name. Telling me of a slower more relaxed way of life. I hunger to move closer to the seashore, which strengthens with each passing year, as I get closer and closer to retirement (still over a decade away). But finding a place with the same spoken word scene I have around me at the moment will be difficult. Craving seashore sunsets will probably win over sharing poetry in person (there is always the internet to help me share).

Sand dunes, salty air,
Seaweed, gulls and beach sunsets,
Calling to my heart.

© 31/07/2023 rog leach

Escape #Ekphrastic #art

Poetics: Ekphrastic Poetry

Escape!

(Inspired by Closed Geometry by Maria Berrio.)

Finally, away from the grey,
 Monotony, driving me mad,
Socks on rocks called,
 my inner being.
Green grass, between rocks
Staining my socks,
The starry, starry, night I 
Must see,
Vincent sent me.
I shall return one day,
Bringing hubby,
Maybe, maybe not,
His pink dress I wear,
Instead of my suit.
Escaped wife I am,
But only from, 
The rat race,
One starry, starry night 
At a time. Keeping monotony at bay.
© 25/07/2023 rog leach

the example showing a Vincent van Gogh painting with an Anne Sexton poem got me thinking of the following two songs. the first a Peter Gabriel based on an Anne Sexton poem and the second one about Vincent van Gogh.

Winters water

Frozen INN!
#quarille180, #dversepoetspub, #frozenpoem.

Steel hull frozen solid,
Awaiting springs warm thaw,
Wanting water’s sloshing sounds.
 
Steel hull frozen solid,
My heart awaiting thaw.

My home frozen INN,
Steel hull awaiting thaw.

Spring arrives bringing company,
Water’s sloshing sounds signifies.
 
Thawing of winter’s isolation,
Canal community awakening again.

© 24/07/2023 rog leach

Quadrille #180: Pouring Out Our Poems

Edinburgh fringe. #vacation.

Poetics:Vacation reminiscences

Here at #dversepoetspub we are talking holidays,
here is a double whammy poem one about the bus overnight bus ride to get there.
and another about the trip. Edinburgh fringe festival is a must see, one amazing experience.



M20 Mega Nightmare Bus!

Rush hour on 390, sardines and sweaty armpits,
4hrs to shitty old Victoria,

Only nine more to final destination,
Robot voices shouting,
“No standing, on upper deck and stairs.”
Coach late, dirty floor, more fuel and more excuses,
Past home we lurch, waving cheerio goodbye,
Ooh arrrgh where’s my shoes? My poor little lost shoes,
“Don’t mock the afflicted.”
Big wave past mighty Bolsover,
Belching singalong weirdo’s and leggy oddballs,
Farting and howling at 70mph passing Sheffield,
Dropping coatless mother and child on Leeds outskirts.
Snoring short arses across seats lay,
Sunrise over Durham, Durham, Durham, Durham,
Accompanied by stench of oh de toilet.
Meeting headless gingerbread men of Berwick,
Crossing the border with tired and heavy head,
Edinburgh here we come, stench of putrid piss,
Never forgotten as we wade through litter,
To a beery breakfast.
Fringe here we come.

© August 2022 Rog Leach/Jane Campbell/Jenny Godfrey

The fringe.

The fringe.
#acoustic

Tired arrival, tired arrival, finally there,
Huge piles of rubbish in the streets,
Edinburgh council staff striking.

From show to brilliant show we trudge,
Reeling in the fun of the eccentric shows,
Imagined shows of wonder, blowing us away,
Never to be forgotten, a trip of the bucket list,
Good company, good food, great entertainment,
Eating enough fish and chips to last a year, under a wonderous bridge.

© 18/07/2023 rog leach.

The Baron white #vampirediary

Prosery: Rainer Maria Rilke

hi #dversepub regulars tonight’s choice of poetics has me thinking of a character from my novel. whether it makes it into the actual novel is another thing.

The Baron white. #vampirediary.

In the collection of books left hidden in my mother’s home were many poets, works. Including the many printed anthologies of the Dverse poetry pub and some by a German poet Rainer Maria Rilke. Their words pulling me into the written beauty and sheer terror invoked by the written word here.

The sheer joy Rainer’s poetry brought died “for beauty is nothing, but the beginning of terror.” Making me realise how much I loved my mother and that bitch who turned my thinking around from weak minded human to full blown vampire leader.

My mother may have hidden these on purpose when paper books became taboo. Knowing I would need the works of such poets, storytellers, fable and legend sellers. Spreading fear of my kind to the human populace and cluing them up on how to deal with us. God bless Rainer Maria Rilke!

Written for a prompt on #dversepoetpub paying tribute to Rainer Maria Rilke and his poem “the first elegy.” Duions elegies.